No Struggle, No Progress

"OUR DIRTY LAUNDRY"

Job 38:22-23

Copyright 2012

Since our tears have been revealed, as the water that is spilled, from raining and leaking eyes

When our soul has been broken, and no words can be spoken, that will give peace to a soul that’s tired.

I wonder how God would express, the pain that’s in His chest, when He looks down on this earth

That He loved to the extent, that His only son was sent, to pay a price that no man is worth.

Whenever the Lord cries, the clouds become His eyes, and the rain is the tears He sheds

Trying to cleanse this world of filth, that’s why Noah’s ark was built, to save us from the dread.

His breath becomes the wind, that blows from deep within, to remind us of the price that was paid

So, He uproots trees, trying to bring us to our knees, and turn from our wicked ways.

His storehouse is loaded with rain, snow and wind, that fight against our sins, like they are a heavenly army

That wipes out big cities and small towns, like atomic bombs of a trillion pounds, or a maid taking out “OUR DIRTY LAUNDRY”.

 

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